His Best Friend's Little Sister

by Vivian Wood

  And Sawyer, Sawyer was caught up in memories of the past, thinking about the last time he was in town. The last time things went right, when he and Remy were still friendly.

  More than friendly, actually. He’d taken her out on a trail ride near the end of his trip, traveling a ways down Cur Creek. Down to a place by the river, the swimming hole where they’d hung out as teens, throwing bonfires and staying up late necking and drinking.

  Not that Remy had done a lot of that. He’d been with her a handful of times in high school and a handful of times since then, but as far as Sawyer knew he was her one and only. At least, that was how he liked to think of it.

  Going out to the river at 26, just the two of them on a moonlit date… it was a very different experience from their high school days. He’d laid out a midnight picnic for her with sandwiches and champagne.

  They rekindled their spark right away, like Sawyer and Remy always seemed to do. A single kiss consuming them both until it burned them down to the ground, leaving them in the ashes.

  Remy was so beautiful that night, shyly shedding her clothes in the summer air, giving in to Sawyer’s every demand. Once he’d teased her enough, she grew bold and wanton.

  Got on top, rode him hard, took what she needed. Damn, just the thought of her like that made him so hard, he couldn’t stop thinking about her.

  And those lips, the way he’d taught her to suck his cock… Remy mastered it like a pro, bringing him to his knees with ease.

  He loved that about her, how she turned hot as flame, just for him. He’d had other women, some amazingly limber, or some who fucked like cheap porn stars… but none of them were like Remy.

  There was just something about her, some sweetness or beauty that he couldn’t quite put his finger on. She had a secret dirty side, and it was nearly Sawyer’s undoing. It drove him crazy, had him thinking about her all the time back when he was deployed.

  Sawyer sat at the bar with his brothers, stuck in the past. Even when some decent-looking girls came over, a little young but hot, in itty bitty short denim skirts with thongs peeking out at their hips, he couldn’t stop thinking of Remy.

  Colt invited the girls to sit down and drink, which of course they did. An hour into their acquaintance, Sawyer had a cute little redhead half on his lap, and when she started groping him under the table…

  Damn, the girl was forward.

  He glanced at her, all that makeup covering up her youthful freckles, and something in him broke. He felt a little queasy, and quickly slid the girl’s hand away from where it laid on his upper thigh.

  The girl seemed to take no offense, and when Colt left with one of the other girls, Sawyer and Walker made their getaway. Colt, they assumed, would find his own ride home.

  “Looks like you had a close call, there,” Walker said as they drove home in Walker’s Escalade.

  “Yeah. She was too young,” Sawyer said.

  “She was probably 23.”

  “Yeah. Like I said, too young.”

  “Too young, or just not the girl you want?”

  Sawyer shot Walker a look, then shook his head.

  “I don’t know, man.”

  Walker only nodded. Talking to Walker was easy like that, he rarely judged and often saw right to the heart of things.

  The real question was, what the hell was up with Sawyer’s libido? Normally being elbow-deep in chicks was like… his thing. He didn’t care who, what, when, or where as long as there were new girls, and those girls were hot.

  And yet, here he was, turning down probably prime young pussy, all because…

  Because what? Because Remy wouldn’t look his way?

  Ridiculous.

  After the bar, back in his apartment, Sawyer struggled for self-control. He wanted Remy badly. The more she ran from him, the more it seemed he wanted her.

  Am I that kind of dick? he wondered to himself. The kind of guy who just wants what he can’t have? After all, I didn’t exactly rush home to see her when I left the service…

  Sawyer fell into a restless sleep, frustrated with himself, knowing that he’d regret his wakefulness in the morning. He slipped down and down into memory, but this time it was no sweet memory of Remy.

  No, this time he dreamed of the sand.

  The thing he remembered the most about Camp Leatherneck was the sand. Everywhere he looked, all around was sand. The camp was built on sand. What little wasn’t actual sand, the actual base, was colored like sand. Camouflage, yeah…

  But if he blinked, he could almost miss the base and just see an endless sea of sand dunes, stretching out across the parched, barren terrain.

  The sand got into everything. Boots, toothpaste, bunk, food. Long bouts of inactivity between missions, boredom for days and days on end, all while feeling trapped by the sand, feeling like he’d never get out.

  He remembered that specific moment, camping bivouac style with no tents about 300 miles from Leatherneck. They were returning from a recon mission, taking their time about it.

  Sawyer remembered packing up camp. Holding up his boot, turning it upside down to make sure nothing had crawled in there overnight. He remembered watching sand slither and fall, the fine tawny grains sliding from his shoe and catching the breeze…

  He felt the impact before he heard or saw it, felt the IED rumble and explode.

  CRACK.

  Sawyer sat up in his bed, an anguished wail escaping his lungs. He felt sick, his chest tight. His body hot, his arms cold, covered in sweat and shaking like a leaf.

  Blinking into the early morning Louisiana light, he rose and went to the window.

  CRACK.

  He nearly jumped out of his skin as the sound came again. Drawing back the curtain, he peered outside. Only 20 feet away, Walker was stripped to the waist, chopping wood.

  No doubt it was Walker’s way of paying Sawyer back for bringing up Walker’s fiancée the previous evening.

  Letting the curtain drop, Sawyer walked back over to sink down on his bed, burying his face in his hands.

  What a way to start the day, he thought to himself.

  Sawyer had better luck at the second work social. The River family turned out in full force to the Scott Farm, where the men helped with the same kind of backbreaking barn repairs from the previous social, while the women all worked to process and can various jellies and vegetables on tables just outside.

  Early in the day, Sawyer took a break to grab some water. Leaving the barn, he walked up behind Remy and Shelby, who were clearly in the throes of a heated argument. Tucked away at the side of the barn, the two blonde sisters couldn’t see him, giving him a prime chance to eavesdrop.

  “Sawyer’s going to find out,” Shelby hissed, pointing a finger at Remy. “He’s not stupid, you know.”

  “It’s none of his business,” Remy said, folding her arms across her chest.

  “Remy, this is just wrong, and you know it.”

  Walker strode up behind Sawyer, clearing his throat. Both women turned and spotted Sawyer and Walker, Remy and Shelby both going a little pale.

  “Just coming for some water,” Sawyer said, narrowing his gaze.

  “Mmm,” Shelby said, drawing Remy away.

  “Interesting,” Sawyer mumbled to Walker. “They were just talking about me. About how I was going to find out about something.”

  Walker glanced at Sawyer, shrugged, and moved toward the house.

  The rest of the day, anytime Sawyer saw Remy she was surrounded by a gaggle of older ladies, making herself integral to canning or quilting, flitting from one thing to the next. Keeping herself distant from the rest of the group, basically avoiding everyone her own age.

  If it weren’t for her frilly pink tank top and the way she filled out those jeans, she would’ve blended right in with the other women.

  All through the morning, he kept stealing glances at her, sometimes catching her looking back. Thinking, all the while, about what he’d overheard earlier.

  He’s going to find
out. This is wrong.

  It wasn’t until high noon, during the huge buffet-style lunch, that he had an opportunity to approach her. Sawyer saw Remy grab a mason jar full of lemonade, look around furtively, and then sneak off toward the back of the barn.

  By the time he followed her, she was out of sight, but the well-worn path leading down to the river made her trail obvious enough. The trees grew in close as he headed down, shading him from the burning sun.

  He could see why she’d come down here-shade and solitude.

  He found her sitting on the gnarled stump of a tree, jeans rolled up to her knees with her feet in the water. A pose he’d seen her take a hundred times, back when they were kids.

  “Hey,” he said.

  Remy looked up at him, her eyes a little wide.

  “Oh. Hey,” she said, her lips thinning.

  “I followed you down here,” he said, shrugging apologetically.

  “I see that,” she said, glancing away.

  “Listen, Remy,” he said. “I think we got off on the wrong foot.”

  She looked back at him, her blue gaze so sharp it practically cut him. She pursed her lips and frowned, but didn’t speak.

  “I was thinking maybe you’d let me take you out,” he said. “As an apology, I mean.”

  “No,” she said, without a moment’s hesitation.

  “Remy…”

  “Sawyer, I said no.”

  “Why are you avoiding me, Remy? Just tell me that it’s something I did, and I can accept that. I can make it up to you. This stonewalling, I can’t handle.”

  “Maybe I don’t care what you can handle, Sawyer.”

  Remy pulled her feet from the water and grabbed her shoes, clearly intending to leave. When she shoved her feet into her shoes and stood, she turned her glare onto Sawyer, realizing she couldn’t leave without passing him.

  “Move, please,” she said, all her anger simmering right below the surface, plain enough to see.

  “Talk to me,” Sawyer insisted. “I know you may not like me right now, but I was there at the church social. I kissed you, you kissed me back.”

  “It was a mistake,” Remy said. “Now let me pass.”

  “Not until you talk to me,” Sawyer said, sweeping off his Stetson.

  Remy’s gaze dropped to his feet. “See you finally got some proper boots.”

  “Doing my best to fit in again,” Sawyer said with a shrug. “I’m thinking about staying here, permanently.”

  Remy’s expression went hard.

  “Well, I’m not part of your plans,” Remy said, shifting uncomfortably.

  “You could be, if you wanted. You just have to talk to me about whatever’s going on.”

  Remy stared at him for a second, those big blue eyes wide and haunted. Almost, maybe, for the slightest second, Sawyer felt she was about to admit something.

  Then, instead, she shrugged. “Not everything is about you, Sawyer. I thought the military would’ve taught you that.”

  “Tell me what it is about, then,” he insisted.

  “I don’t have time for this, Sawyer,” Remy sighed. “I don’t have like… the emotional energy to deal with this, this thing where we glance at each other over our shoulders and make eyes. I have bigger things going on in my life, trying to save the damn farm…”

  She trailed off, shaking her head.

  “The farm’s in trouble, then?” he asked.

  Remy pinned him with her gaze.

  “It’s not for you to worry about,” she said slowly. “If there was a time for us, Sawyer, it’s long past. If you want to make me happy, just back off. And stop snooping around in my business. I promise you, it won’t end well for either of us.”

  The sound of a twig snapping drew their attention toward the path. The young redhead that Sawyer’d met at the bar the other night approached, this time wearing low-slung jeans and a pink wife-beater.

  “Oh, hey,” she said to Sawyer. “Just thought I’d come say hi.”

  Sawyer could feel the anger in Remy’s gaze. “It’s not what you think.”

  “Doesn’t matter.”

  “Remy, don’t—”

  “Get out of of my damned way, Sawyer, or I swear I’m going to push you into the creek,” Remy snarled.

  Sawyer stared at Remy for several long seconds, listening to his heart thrum in his chest. He’d pushed her too far somehow, that much was certain.

  He bowed his head and stepped back, making room for her to pass. After a moment, Remy brushed past him, stalking up the hill.

  Leaving him standing there at the bottom, squinting against the sunlight at her retreating back.

  Monday morning, after another fitful night of sleep, Sawyer rose early and waited for his brothers in the kitchen. He had coffee and bacon and biscuits going when Walker and Colt came in, both of his brothers instantly giving him suspicious looks.

  “What’s all this?” Colt asked.

  “Call it… a declaration of intent,” Sawyer said, nodding to the empty seats at the kitchen bar.

  “It’s too early for this,” Walker groused, though he seemed less grumpy once Sawyer poured coffee for all three of them.

  Colt and Walker sipped in silence for a few moments, as was their collective habit. Finally, Colt pushed his coffee mug back.

  “Do I smell bacon?” he asked.

  “Yup,” Sawyer said.

  He laid out a plate of bacon, with biscuits and butter and honey. He stayed standing as they dug in, Colt making an appreciative sound on his first bite of honeyed biscuit.

  “What’s the intent?” Walker asked after a moment.

  “I want to stay,” Sawyer said. “But not like this. I want to bring back Mom’s business.”

  Colt and Walker stared at him, Colt scratching his chin and leaving a trail of biscuit crumbs in his wake.

  “You want to run the dude ranch again?” Walker asked.

  “Do you have any idea how much work that would be?” Colt said, right on his heels.

  “I remember Mom and The Colonel just about pulling their hair out over it, at the beginning,” Sawyer said, cocking his head. “But think about it. Profits are at an all-time low right now. We could still provide livestock to surrounding farms and run a tourist business. Start small, get a staff in here to help, build up from there.”

  “The land rights are totally different now than they were back then,” Walker said, shaking his head.

  “Yeah, The Colonel sold off a third of the outlying field after…” Colt said, then stopped mid-sentence.

  After Mom died, he meant, but the Roman brothers didn’t exactly talk about that.

  “I know,” Sawyer said. “Which is why I think we need to renegotiate land rights with the Rivers.”

  Colt and Walker’s brows shot up at the same time, reminding Sawyer just how identical he and his brothers looked.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me,” Walker said. “You’re making this into a play for Remy?”

  “No,” Sawyer said, pressing a palm against the tabletop. “No. I know the River farm is failing. I already wanted to start the dude ranch up again, but this just makes it even easier. We’d hire less outside help, keep on the guys we have and maybe get the River siblings over here to help, too. Then we’d profit share, give the horses and cattle run of the unplanted fields every season.”

  Colt scowled, but Walker merely tilted his head and squinted, thinking.

  “It makes a kind of sense,” Walker said after a moment.

  “It’s charity,” Colt said. “The Colonel will have a heart attack.”

  “It’s not charity,” Sawyer said, trying to keep the heat from his tone. “It’s what Mom would have done. They need money, we need help and more space. It’s simple and smart.”

  Colt heaved a sigh. “I can’t argue against that part, but you have to admit that you’re doing at least some of this for Remy.”

  “I won’t deny it,” Sawyer said. “But that doesn’t mean I’m not doing it out of loyal
ty to our neighbors, or because it’s common damned sense.”

  “She doesn’t want you,” Colt told him, leaning back in his chair and giving Sawyer a hard look.

  “That doesn’t mean I don’t owe her something,” Sawyer said.

  Colt and Walker slid each other a look.

  “This is your moment,” Sawyer said. “This is the moment you tell me what’s going on. You know that, right?”

  Colt cleared his throat, while Walker just looked away. Neither responded to Sawyer.

  “Fine,” Sawyer said. “Keep blackballing me, until whatever this is blows way out of proportion. But if one of you can’t give me a good reason why we shouldn’t follow this plan, or if you refuse to consider it because of some ridiculous secret, I’m leaving. First plane out tomorrow, and you can do whatever you want with the ranch.”

  Sawyer stood, picking up his coffee mug and plate. He turned toward the sink, intending to start the dishes and then spend the day alone. His brothers, however, interpreted his move as a dramatic threat to leave.

  “Wait,” Colt said. “Don’t be like that.”

  Sawyer turned. Colt and Walker both wore the same grim expression, and damn if Sawyer didn’t wish he knew what it meant.

  “Well?” Sawyer asked.

  After one last glance at Colt, Walker stood. “We’ll do it.”

  Sawyer couldn’t stop the grin that spread across his face.

  “Just like that? We’re in business?” he asked.

  “We’re in business,” Colt said, standing and coming over to clap Sawyer and Walker on the back. “Now there’s just the tiny matter of convincing the Rivers…”

  Sawyer nodded, knowing that it was much easier said than done.

  11

  When Sawyer knocked on Remy’s front door, he braced himself for another go-around with Remy’s father Braxton. The door swung open to reveal Remy instead, and he released a breath.

  “It’s you,” he said.

  “What are you doing here?” Remy asked, staring at him like he’d grown a second head. “Are you crazy?”